Heaven & Hell

Prologue

In hindsight, going to visit Kelly Gordon just a week after getting out of the hospital wasn't the smartest thing he'd ever done, but Nick wasn't completely unhappy with the result.

He'd had to wait another half-hour before he was able to drive home, and when he did, he also had to face his frantic mother and stoically angry father. He apologized, but before the end of the next week, his parents had made all the necessary arrangements for him to return to Dallas with them. Although many of his friends and co-workers disapproved the notion, and although at one time it would have made him dig his heels in, Nick simply let his parents take charge, content to follow in their wake again after so many years. He looked forward to spending some time in Texas and figured he'd be anxious to return to Vegas after a week or two.

Instead, he stayed in Texas for nearly three months.

It wasn't that he didn't miss Vegas--he did. He spoke to most of his teammates nearly every day and e-mailed them just as often. Many of the lab techs were in contact at least once a week, and between Archie, Hodges, and Bobby, Nick was kept well up-to-date on any lab gossip. Warrick came for a brief visit during the second month and Gil accepted a last-minute invitation to attend a conference in Dallas at about the same time. Both men went back to Vegas with the reassurance that Nick was definitely returning to Las Vegas CSI. He just wasn't sure when yet.

Nick did have every intention of going back, but right now it was pleasant to be on the ranch with little to do except take care of himself. Once he'd asked his family not to fuss over him, they'd backed off and went about their own lives, leaving him to his own devices. For now, that suited Nick just fine. Money was not a concern because Clark County, no doubt eager to avoid any bad press or even the hint of a lawsuit, had given him six months paid leave with the promise of another six months if it became necessary. "Still a hell of a lot cheaper than the ransom," Warrick gritted out bitterly when Nick told him. Of course, Nick had no intention of using up even the initial six months, but it was nice to have it there.

His parents had purchased the hobby ranch the year after Nick graduated from A&M, and Nick had never stayed there for more than a week during the holidays. Now he took every opportunity to be outside and enjoy himself, spending most of his time in the pool where he didn't have to worry about bugs or dirt. His only real responsibility was getting himself to and from his therapist's office three times a week. Initially, Nick balked at the notion of therapy, but he knew there was no way around it and trusted Phillip Kane's recommendation for a psychiatrist in Dallas. Nick didn't feel comfortable around Dr. Imogen Volker at first, but on his third visit she suggested that he see someone he felt more at ease speaking with. Startled, Nick admitted he was surprised she wasn't trying to get him to work through his discomfort. She replied that Nick was there to deal with his torture, not lingering issues he had with female caregivers, opening an unexpected dialogue that established a tentative trust.

Sometimes he was too shaky or upset to get himself home, and then Dr. Volker would call his parents, sister, or brother-in-law to pick him up. Samantha was the only one of his siblings that actually lived in Dallas, but Sammie and their mother made sure someone was available should Nick need a ride despite Nick's protests that he could take a cab. By the beginning of his third week in Dallas, after finally sleeping through the night a few times, Nick felt ready to discuss things with Dr. Volker that, although not directly tied to his hellish ordeal, affected his life as a whole.

A few weeks into his second month, after the visits from Gil and Warrick, the entire clan descended on the ranch for a four-day weekend and Nick decided this was as good a time as any to say what he had to say. Over the course of several sessions with Volker Nick had concluded that if he could live through twenty-some hours of impending suffocation, he could live through this. That didn't stop him from breaking out in a cold sweat whenever he thought about it, though.

In the end, nothing went as Nick planned it. His family contributed to the ruination of his careful speech, however unintentionally. The discussion among his parents and siblings the first night revolved almost entirely around what was best for the baby--without once including the 35-year-old "baby" in the conversation. At first, Nick managed to let it roll off his back with amusement--all but one sister had children of their own, yet they still had plenty of energy to concentrate on running his life for him. After hours of hearing that he really ought to move back to Texas, Nick had to remind himself that he was the youngest by eight years and his family had obviously never broken the habit of treating him as such. Then comments questioning the competence of his teammates, the LVPD and Vegas in general began and it didn't take long for Nick to get fed up and blurt out what he'd meant to carefully work his way up to with the speech.

Unsurprisingly, it happened while he was talking to Meredith and her husband, Douglas--never Doug. Eight years older than Nick, Meredith was the second youngest, and if Nick was going to argue with any of his sisters, it was usually her. It didn't help that Douglas reminded Nick of Conrad Ecklie, only with more hair and less finesse. In response to a comment from Nick, Douglas had begun expounding on the immorality in Nick's chosen city and how it had been founded on nefarious practices in the first place. Nick, thinking of the dedicated people he worked with and the hard-working people tourists never saw, finally lost his temper and snapped, "Well, what about me, Doug? I'm gay, so according to you, I'd fit right in!"

The entire room fell silent and Nick had only a split-second to be grateful that his younger nieces and nephews were in bed--the older ones were in the den and probably listening with all their might--before being bombarded with questions. Everyone was talking at once except Bill Stokes, who was looking more stoic than ever.

Nick kept his eyes on his father as he did his best to answer all the questions thrown at him. Yes, he was sure. No, it wasn't just because of what had happened. Yes, he had been discussing it with his therapist. No, he wasn't seeing anyone--jeez, Sammie.

The biggest surprise came from his brother. Brett, his extra-tough, gearhead, touchdown running, BMOC, City Attorney, Very Important big brother. "So when you goin' to be able to get on down to our place for a visit?"

That was enough for Nick to tear his gaze from his father's face. "Wh-what did you..?"

"I've managed to clear my calendar enough to take most of next week off. You could catch a ride back with us on Monday if you don't want to fly."

"If you don't mind being stuck in the back with a couple of teenagers for five hours," Brett's wife, Chantelle, added.

"Maybe catch an Astros game between fishin' trips, yeah?" Brett suggested.

His throat tight with gratitude, Nick could only nod in agreement.

After that, even though the sheer volume of questions didn't decrease, the tone wasn't as demanding or accusing. "How long have you...known?" his father asked suddenly.

"Since college," Nick voice hung in the silence that had descended again.

"Is that why you moved to Las Vegas?"

Nick couldn't help smiling. He could almost see that his mother was forming another argument in favor of him staying in Dallas. "No, Mom. No one there knows either."

"And you were scared to tell us, Pancho?"

"Yes," Nick admitted, unable to read a thing in his father's flat tone but taking heart that his nickname had been used.

The evening wound down quickly after that and although his parents never mentioned it again for the rest of the weekend, his sisters seemed to have a whole lot to say about it. Although their responses ran the gamut from supportive to concerned to disapproving, Nick could tell that even those who did have a problem with it weren't going to make a fuss and risk the wrath of those who didn't.

All in all, it was better than Nick's worst case scenario.

It was a relief, though, to climb into Brett's SUV early Monday morning. Not entirely sure how he'd react on a flight alone, Nick opted for the five-hour drive. Alec was seventeen and Caitlyn thirteen, so the drive wasn't too excruciating.

Nick had never stayed at Brett's before and was surprised by how comfortable he felt. After years of hearing about it and making pieces for it, Nick finally got to see Alec's impressive Breyer model horse collection. He was gratified and flattered to see all the model wagons and tack he had designed to fit the horses were prominently displayed. From his first attempt at a simple dogcart to a detailed stagecoach, more than a decade of Christmas presents from Alec's Uncle Nick lined the most visible shelves.

"Kyle still has all his, too," Alec told him, referring to another nephew. "And when Michaela was here she couldn't take her eyes off 'em. She got her first model on her last birthday, so she'll probably be hittin' you up for a fancy carriage soon."

"She'll have to start out with a buckboard just like you and Kyle--I'm out of practice," Nick grinned at the thought of Sammie's exuberant eight-year-old. "I don't even know where my plans are anymore."

"Good luck talking her out of it," Alec snorted.

Nick and Brett went fishing often, but conversation was minimal. That wasn't exactly unusual--they had never talked much. The eleven-year age difference meant Brett had been away from home by the time Nick was seven, and had his own family when Nick was in his teens. Any conversation between them, as always, focused on either work or sports.

Brett never once mentioned Nick's revelation, but he did everything he could to show Nick he was accepting--as did Chantelle and the children. Nick was surprised, touched and a little confused. It was Caitlyn, frighteningly perceptive for her years, who cleared things up.

"You scared the hell outta Daddy," she told him with refreshing frankness. "One of our cousins on Mom's side--couple years older than Alec--shot himself last year. They only found out he was gay in his suicide note. Daddy's really worried 'cause of everything else you've been through. He wants to make sure--well, he's not takin' any chances."

It took a few minutes for Nick to recover his powers of speech. "Are you supposed to know about this?"

She gave him a cheeky grin, "Not nowhere as much as I actually do."

After about ten days, Jocelyn, not to be outdone by her twin brother, packed Nick off to San Antonio for a week. Joss and Leland didn't have any children except for the Irish Setters they raised. Nick loved every minute of his visit and it took every ounce of his willpower not to take up their offer of his own puppy.

When Leland had to drop off two puppies to their new owners in Dallas a week later, Nick caught a ride back with him. He stayed another week with his parents and had several face to face sessions with Dr. Volker--he had been talking to her regularly over the phone while visiting--before accepting an invitation to stay with Adrienne and her family. This visit was strained and uncomfortable, even though Adrienne and Josh tried their best to be supportive. They were making the effort, and Nick told himself that's what counted, but he knew he wouldn't have lasted a week in Sweetwater if Bailey and Tessa hadn't been there as well. Nineteen and seventeen respectively, they were much more at ease with Nick than their parents.

Then it was back to his parents' to celebrate his birthday where, despite everyone's efforts, things were definitely tense. After that, Nick was content to stay on the ranch for until he suddenly awoke in the dead of night. The usual nightmare residues weren't tickling at his consciousness, so he couldn't imagine what jolted him from his sleep. He glanced at the clock and suddenly realized that there was probably nowhere in Dallas he could get decent Szechwan or steak and eggs at three in the morning. Then he smiled because then he knew what had awakened him.

He didn't say it to his mother because he knew it would hurt her feelings, but he was able to tell Dr. Volker on his next visit.

"It's time for me to go home."

Nick had returned to Las Vegas eager to get back to work, even if the first two weeks were to be spent in the lab, and fully prepared to tell his closest friends the truth about his sexuality. That was before he had a visit from his eldest sister, Susannah, and her husband, Wesley. Although both of them were as relaxed and easy around him as ever, Susannah had turned evasive when Nick first asked how things were back home. Eventually, she told him about the turmoil his announcement had left behind. Nick had already known that his parents were still troubled by it--it was simple enough to tell from the stilted phone calls he'd endured, but he'd never dreamed his siblings would be having knock-down drag-out fights about him. Susannah and Wesley did everything they could to assure him he'd done the right thing by coming out after so many years, but Nick began to seriously doubt it.

Losing his nerve, Nick had gone back to work without telling his friends a thing. That made him even more uncomfortable and Nick found himself beginning to avoid them. His friends, in turn, didn't push, obviously thinking he wanted and needed his space. In truth, Nick wasn't sure what to do with this sudden abundance of space and had the vague notion that it might be a good time to reacquaint himself with a scene he'd only experienced briefly during his junior year. That this was easier to deal with than the memory of a plexiglass coffin was a curiosity Nick acknowledged then firmly set aside.

The only gay bar in Vegas that Nick had really heard of was Pompeii's, so that was where he went. The moment he walked in, he knew this wasn't the place for him, but he stuck it out for an hour. That was all he could stand of the crowd of bodies, the pulsing music, but most of all, the flashing lights. Searching online a few days later led him to a small neighborhood bar that suited him much better.

It was also where decided to unwind once he finished the last shift of his first week back at work. As he made his way to the old-fashioned bar and order a beer, he noted that the place had a surprisingly decent crowd for 8 a.m. Most of the people were, like him, workers who were just finishing a night shift, but there were some people who still weren't finished partying from the previous evening. There weren't quite as many patrons as the last time he'd been there, but that wasn't Nick's concern. He wasn't here to hook up with anyone, he just found it preferable to be at King Jimmy's than to be home alone or even be with his friends at the moment. It was human interaction at a superficial level, and right now he preferred to keep things that way.

Nearly a dozen men had approached him on his only other visit, and although he had been attracted to several of them, he wasn't about to hop into bed with anyone. Once it had been established that he wasn't interested in a quick tumble, most men abandoned any conversation for greener pastures. There'd been a few men who hadn't applied too much pressure or had still seemed interested after he'd turned down their initial offer, but Nick didn't see any of them this time.

"I figured you'd be back."

Nick started at the voice so near to him and turned toward it. He had to force a polite smile when he saw Blake Randall had taken the stool next to him. Randall was the only familiar face in the bar, but Nick would just as soon have not known him. He worked in Personnel at the lab, in Human Resources, but how anyone as unsympathetic and arrogant as he was qualified for such a position was beyond Nick's understanding. Randall was always civil to him, but Nick had seen the way he treated people who didn't, or couldn't, fight back--belittling them for no apparent reason except to make himself feel superior. Still, they did work together--technically--so Nick mustered up a smile. "Hi, Blake."

Randall remained seated, but edged closer to Nick. "I knew you would."

"You did?" Nick asked, allowing his disbelief to creep into his voice.

"Sure," Randall gave him a speculative look that stopped just short of being a leer. "So you back in the game after being away or are you trying something new because of what happened to you?"

If Nick hadn't cared for Randall before, the man's casual callousness would have done it. Not to mention that he referred to Nick's life as though he already had a say in it. "I don't really want to talk about that." With you, Nick added silently.

A flash of annoyance crossed Randall's handsome face. "There's better things for us to talk about, anyway." He nodded to Nick's beer, "I'll get you another one of those."

"That's okay," Nick shook his head. "I'm going home right after this."

"Alone. What a crime."

Nick couldn't help rolling his eyes.

Randall either didn't notice or chose to ignore it. He leaned in and breathed into Nick's ear, "You don't have to be so shy. If you're nervous, I promise to make it good for you."

Nick shifted away and braced his arm so Randall couldn't invade his space any further. "I'm not interested, okay?" he said firmly. "Really."

"Think you can do better, pretty boy?" Randall sneered quietly. "Not with that attitude."

"Well, that's my problem, isn't it?"

"I don't know why you bothered showing up at all," Randall spat as he got off his stool. "You don't need to be here--you've already got something stuck up your ass."

"Nice. With charm like that, I'm sure you'll have no trouble finding someone else," Nick said flatly, no longer bothering to hide his distaste.

Randall shot him one last dark look before he left. Nick sighed and took a long sip of his beer. That most definitely was not the kind of encounter he'd been looking for when he walked in.

"He's not used to getting turned down."

Nick glanced up at the bartender and returned the young man's crooked grin. "It wasn't that hard, believe me."

The blonde's smile widened, displaying even white teeth that went well with the whole "California Kid" look he had going. "You're new here. To Vegas?"

"No. I've lived in Vegas for almost eight years. I'm new here, though."

"Texas?"

"Yeah." Then Nick chuckled because the bartender's tone seemed to imply more than merely birthplace.

"Do you want another drink?"

"No, thanks," Nick pulled out his wallet to pay for the beer he'd had. "I really do have to get home."

"Well, I hope you won't let the Aberzombie keep you away. It's always good to have another nice guy around here."

Nick raised an eyebrow, "What makes you think I'm a nice guy?"

"Please," the bartender said with another endearing, crooked smile. "I can tell. Believe me."

"Thanks," Nick threw several bills down on the counter. "I'll see you."

As he drove home, Nick's mood was much lighter than he expected. The fun, no-pressure flirting with the bartender had more or less killed any bad feeling left over from his encounter with Randall. If he knew for certain that his next visit would follow along those lines, or even be a bit like the time before, he'd leave his truck at home and take a cab so he could have more than one beer.

Eventually, he might even work up the nerve to accept one of those offers he kept getting.

Nick arrived at work the next night to find that he had been unceremoniously outed. Of course, he didn't find out right away. All he was aware of at first were curious looks, but he'd gotten used to those and didn't really pay attention.

Archie and Hodges pulled him aside, but didn't get out much more than Randall's name before Ecklie showed up and requested a chat with Nick in his office. By now, Nick knew what it was going to be about, but he didn't have the faintest idea what direction Ecklie might go with it. He wasn't too concerned--the Las Vegas Crime Lab had a fairly strong tolerance policy, and besides, Ecklie seemed be changing his spots a bit, if what Nick had heard and even seen for himself was true. That didn't mean he was looking forward to this conversation, though.

"Blake Randall is accusing you of making unwanted advances toward him in a local gay bar," Ecklie said without preamble and for one horrible, hideous moment, Nick remembered his disastrous encounter with Kristy Hopkins. "He has mentioned it to most of the people in Personnel and many employees on day and swing shifts. I need to know if you want to charge him with sexual harassment."

Nick gaped, trying to process everything he was hearing. "Charge--"

"Outing someone in such a manner is strictly against policy. If you did indeed make advances that could also constitute harassment--although the general consensus is that you probably didn't--Randall should have made a formal charge."

Still too flabbergasted to weave his way around such a touchy issue, Nick said bluntly, "It's the other way around."

Ecklie's nod was almost imperceptible. "Any witnesses?"

"Yeah, but...whoa," Nick shook his head quickly. "No. Look, the last thing I want is any more--aw, Jesus, what a mess." He slumped back in his chair and rubbed at his eyes, feeling a headache coming on.

"Do you want to press charges? File a complaint?"

"Hell, no. I just want the guy to leave me alone."

"I can probably take care of that," Ecklie said. Then more formally, "You are aware of LVPD's tolerance policy, aren't you? Problems with the lab, you come to me. Problems with any cops, me or Captain Brass."

"I know," Nick nodded. Then, because he didn't know what else to say--"Thank you."

"However, when it comes to explaining to your teammates why you haven't told them before this," Ecklie said dryly. "You're on your own."

"Yeah," Nick smiled ruefully as he opened the door. "That's fine." Then he stepped outside to face the firing squad.

One thing Nick did not expect was that his colleagues would actually be happy to have something to deal with other than his underground trauma.

The lab techs--particularly Hodges--were happy to fill him in on what Randall had said, adding that although most people accepted Randall's assertion Nick was gay, no one bought his story about Nick hitting on him. Randall's attempt to discredit Nick had basically backfired.

Grissom made sure Nick knew about the labs policies and then quoted him some arcane wisdom that Nick still hadn't figured out.

Catherine gave him hell for not telling her sooner, then hugged him and went back to treating him as she always had.

Brass gruffly echoed Ecklie's words, telling Nick to let him know if anyone hassled him.

Greg teased him incessantly, threatening to set him up with all sorts of people and giving some of the most entertaining and bizarre advice Nick had ever heard.

Sara also had a few choice things to say about not being told before. There were a few pokes about the way he'd tried to set her up with guys, a few questions to satisfy her natural curiosity and a few assurances he was handling it okay, before she let everything settle back into their usual friendship.

Warrick said everything a best friend was supposed to say. He was stalwart and supportive and nonjudgmental. Nick didn't care about any of that. What really got his attention was something in the green eyes--something unnameable that made his heart lurch painfully but hopefully.

Nick told himself not to push right now, that Warrick was probably still shocked by the discovery and needed a week or two to let it sink in.

One week later, Warrick was married.

The death knell of his marriage was a click.

Warrick stared at the cordless handset for a moment before setting it back in its nest, reflecting that this was somehow appropriate. He'd begun this marriage with as little noise and notice as possible--most likely because he knew it was a mistake from the start--and now it was ending the same way. So quietly that Tina probably didn't even know it was over yet.

There was no doubt left in his mind, though, so while he adjusted to the idea of a failed marriage, he also began packing up his things. There wasn't much to pack, because even after five-and-a-half months, most of his stuff was still in storage--another telling point. He decided he was going to leave behind the few purchases they had made together and let Tina do what she liked with them. He wanted this break to be as clean as possible.

Really, it wasn't the argument that had led to this--just the fact that it was an argument that had become very old very quickly. A brother-in-law's birthday. One that Warrick was currently missing because had to go in to work several hours early. He didn't think it was a big deal--he didn't like this brother-in-law and had only met him a handful of times. Tina felt otherwise. It was a "family get-together" and that meant he was required to attend.

Warrick had always thought he was all for family, but he had recently begun to revise that opinion. Tina had two brothers and a sister, and all of them had children. That, along with her parents made for a fairly large group. Throw in a few aunts and uncles and a smattering of cousins and things got messy. Although Warrick liked her parents well enough, and could get along with the siblings when he had to, he didn't see why they--let alone cousins and in-laws--were suddenly entitled to know his business even though they were still near-strangers to him. He was immediately branded "standoffish" or, less politely, "stuck up." The latter amused him no end, considering it came from a group of people who thought his job in public service was a waste of his degree.

Suggestions that he find a more lucrative career had led to some harsh words on occasion, because Warrick never did take to anything that even vaguely resembled railroading. The usual result was a fight when they got home. Tina's assertion three months in that "you didn't just marry me, you married my family," made him feel much less guilty about the things he hadn't been honest about before their quickie marriage. She claimed she was willing to give him some leeway--something else that he hadn't liked the sound of--because she knew he didn't have any family, but she expected him to become accustomed to hers.

Warrick wasn't sure he'd ever become accustomed to being told he was wasting his talent or that he needed to start thinking more about the future.

Tina did have a point about his family--or lack thereof. With an anonymous father and a mother that had died when he was seven, Warrick's only family had been his grandmother. Aunt Bertha, whom he'd loved just as much, wasn't actually related. Somehow, he'd never gotten around to telling his wife about the true relationship between Esther Brown and Bertha Freedman. Of course it would have been odd to bring it up, since his grandmother had passed two years ago and Aunt Bertha six months after. Therefore, he had no family.

And yet, that wasn't entirely true.

During a recent fight--this time about Warrick telling off a cousin--Tina had fallen back on the old cliché, "You can't choose your family." This brought home the realization that, actually, he had. Perhaps there weren't any specifically defined roles for the people in it, but it was the family Warrick wanted. Somehow, though, he never got around to introducing her to any of them, so it wasn't really her fault for constantly overlooking them. She had no idea what his teammates meant to him--and with one particular teammate, he'd worked extra hard to hide it--so she could probably be forgiven for getting tired of constantly hearing about them.

And she did get tired of it, but then, he got tired of hearing about Dr. Robert Dayton.

Warrick had often wondered what had prompted Tina--whom he soon learned was not particularly impulsive or spontaneous--to accept his proposal without telling the family she was so close to. A few months of family gatherings made him realize that he was the rebound guy. Things he heard revealed that although the family had liked her the fact that she was seeing a doctor, they hadn't been too crazy about the fact that the doctor was white. Warrick suspected that good old Robert would now be welcomed back with open arms by the family--and probably Tina, too, considering how much she mentioned him.

Fair was fair, though--Tina mentioned Robert as much as he mentioned Nick. Warrick just wondered if she had caught onto the correlation.

She'd fired at him more than once that although she was sorry for what Nick Stokes had been through, she was tired of it affecting their marriage. That tended to make Warrick laugh--which only infuriated her more--because what happened to Nick Stokes was practically the entire reason for their marriage.

Well...maybe that wasn't entirely true.

It wasn't what happened to Nick that did it, but what Nick did after it happened.

Warrick still wasn't sure why Nick's coming out sent him rushing headlong into marriage. It was one of those knee-jerk--emphasis on the jerk--reactions that he was prone to and that rarely turned out well. It was when he told Nick about his marriage and saw the brief flash of hurt dismay before the Texan smiled and congratulated him that Warrick realized he had probably just shot himself in the foot.

Despite that, Warrick had made up his mind that this marriage was going to work. But only a month in, he knew that if his marriage was going to stand the slightest chance, he'd have to but some distance between himself and Nick. So he had, more or less shooting himself in the other foot.

If Nick had noticed that Warrick wasn't working as many cases with him, or that Warrick usually kept any conversation either to work or the most superficial subjects, he didn't comment on it. Likely Nick thought it was due to his admission of his sexuality, despite Warrick's efforts to assure him otherwise. Nick never called him on it, though.

Warrick forced himself to stand by silently and watch Nick struggle to come to grips with his trauma, finding his footing only to flounder again. During the McBride case, Warrick made himself return to Vegas and had to hear about Nick's miraculous rescue of Cassie secondhand. He kept his comments on Nick's foray into facial hair to bland teasing, when he really wanted to ask whether Nick actually thought it made him more attractive--and who he wanted to attract--or scared himself by wondering whether if it was the beginning of some sort of dissociation. When Kelly Gordon was paroled and promptly killed someone just as Nick seemed to be getting back on track, Warrick had steeled himself against demanding why the hell Nick hadn't been taken off the case. Three days later he heard about Kelly's suicide and practically gave himself an ulcer trying to keep from grabbing Nick and demanding he get everything out of his system. All this in an attempt to make his marriage work.

Looking back now, he realized he should have paid closer attention to the odds.

After that, he had to watch helplessly as Nick floundered again. Not wanting to let on, he tried his best to watch out for Nick without actually speaking to him. Tina noticed his increased in hours almost immediately and asked why he was working so many extra shifts. Warrick had no idea what to say to that, but knew he couldn't tell her the truth. Because Nick is working a lot of doubles and it's the only way I can keep an eye on him. And I need to keep an eye on him because he's turned into someone else since Kelly Gordon offed herself in front of him.

Warrick's willpower finally ran out two weeks ago when he and Nick had to search the desert during the Zoe Kessler case. The problem was no longer that Nick was floundering--it was the very opposite. Warrick could understand the lack of banter, since they hadn't spent any amount of time together in months, but Nick was so intent on being all business that he didn't even react when Warrick called him on his detached attitude. That only made the change--it was almost a break--in Nick's voice more noticeable when he spoke of a torture chamber.

And that was it.

Nick was still so obviously haunted by his ordeal that Warrick could hardly stand it and invited Nick out for breakfast at the end of their next shift. He had no intention of pressing Nick to talk--at that point, he'd just wanted to revive their flagging friendship. Before they were halfway through their steak and eggs, though, both men had fallen back into something resembling the easy companionship they'd always shared. In the process of worrying about Nick, Warrick realized he had somehow managed to overlook how much he actually missed Nick, and wasn't ready for the reconciliation to end with breakfast. Neither was Nick, it seemed, because he agreed immediately when Warrick suggested they go to one of their old haunts to shoot some pool. After that, it was back to Nick's to grill some burgers for lunch and just hang out in front of the television.

It was late afternoon before Warrick got back to his place, needing to get at least a few hours sleep in before work. He arrived home to find that Tina's brother had been promoted and the family was going out to celebrate. His objection that he needed sleep more led to another fight and Tina leaving without him. Warrick knew he should feel bad about that, but he was still in far too good a mood to care much.

Since then, as though making up for the last few months, he and Nick had been spending as much time as possible together, both on the job and off. Tina noticed this and made the mistake of trying to make him jealous. Although Warrick didn't like the idea of being a cuckolded husband, he didn't care enough to react. Likely that, and not this birthday, had been the final straw.

Standing in the center of the living room, Warrick surveyed the apartment. Forty-five minutes of nonstop packing had taken care of nearly everything important. His laptop, his clothes, his books and his music were all ready to go. He glanced at the clock and realized he wouldn't have time to find a hotel before work. That wasn't much a problem. This was Vegas, so it wouldn't take more than a phone call or two to line up a room. Grabbing his guitar case in one hand and a garment bag containing his best suits in the other, he headed out to begin loading his Wrangler.

It was all over but the cryin', and Warrick sincerely hoped there wouldn't be much of that for Tina. He suspected that if there was, Robert would be around to dry her tears.

Nick was relieved that the Sidley case didn't require any more input from him. Catherine and Sara--but mostly Catherine--had it now, which was fine with him. He'd put in three doubles in a row and needed to catch up on his sleep--something that had become elusive since Kelly Gordon's death. Things had improved a bit lately, and Nick chalked that up to he and Warrick having reestablished their friendship.

He'd felt completely bereft after Warrick's marriage, thinking the distance Warrick put between them was permanent, but apparently it was nothing more that Warrick's way of adjusting. That was something easy for Nick to understand--they both had plenty to adjust to. At first he'd panicked, worried that Warrick had somehow sensed his long-standing attraction, and was relieved when that didn't seem to be the case. Considering all the major changes in both their lives, the fact that they'd fallen back in so comfortably was something of a miracle.

A smile tugged at Nick's lips as he walked past his friend's Wrangler, but quickly faded into a curious frown when he saw the backseat was filled with luggage and boxes. Before he had time to consider the possible reasons for it, he heard the doors unlocking and he glanced back over his shoulder to see Warrick approaching. "Hey."

"Hey," Warrick returned with an easy smile.

Nick wasn't sure how to ask Warrick if the loaded jeep meant what he thought it did, and the best he could come up with was--"Doing some spring cleaning?"

"I guess that's the nicest way of putting it," Warrick returned dryly.

"Ah, hell, Rick. I'm sorry. Is it--how serious is it? Just a fight or--" Nick made himself stop, because Warrick had rarely mentioned his marriage, which meant it was none of his business.

"I moved out," Warrick said. "I'm gonna file in a few days."

"I didn't even know you guys were having trouble," Nick replied, annoyed at himself for having nothing more than trite phrases to offer his friend. "I really am sorry."

Warrick shrugged, "I figured out about a month or two ago that it wasn't going to work. Hell, I shoulda known before I even got married. How often have we sat around making fun on people who do what I did?"

"Warrick, no one ever--"

"I know," Warrick held up his hand. "I'm just sayin' you could have. I would have."

Nick peered inside the jeep again. "If you left--where are you staying?"

Another shrug. "Not a problem in this town."

That was not an option. "A hotel? When I've got an empty guest room?"

"I don't..." Warrick's expression evened out into nothingness. "I'm not sure how long it'll be until I find another place."

"All the more reason not to rack up a hotel bill," Nick pointed out, then realized that there were other reasons Warrick might not want to stay with him. He tried to smile as though these new differences between them didn't sting. "If you're uncomfortable with the idea, I understand. I just want you to know that if you need a place--"

"What?" Warrick frowned, then quickly shook his head. "Hell, Nicky, it's nothing like that. I just wouldn't want to...cramp your style."

Something was definitely off with the way Warrick said that. "What style?" Nick asked, calling his bluff. "You always used to give me grief about not having any style. Does admitting I'm gay mean I'm suddenly loaded with it?"

Warrick's comeback was immediate. "Couldn't tell it by the way you been dressing lately."

Nick smiled in spite of the dig. He hadn't meant to blurt out that last bit, and was relieved Warrick barely blinked.

"Really, though," Warrick explained. "I don't want to get in the way. Know what I mean?"

Don't turn red. Don't turn red, whatever you do. "Well, I'm not really--I mean, I tried my first month back in Vegas, but..." In spite of his efforts, Nick felt his cheeks flush. "I'm not really into--even before, I wasn't really one for..." He made a determined effort to stop rambling. "It's mostly just work, home and the gym for me right now, Rick. I don't really do much else."

Warrick stared and him for a long time, then abruptly turned away and opened his door. "Well, if you're sure..."

Warmth bubbled up inside Nick at the idea of having Warrick as a roommate--he firmly squelched any other notion with the ease of long habit. "Then let's go and get you unpacked."

Warrick parked next to Nick's truck and got out with a tired sigh. It was definitely a relief to know there would be no tension or arguments when he walked in the door after a stressful double. He would be able to grab something to eat--with as much sugar and fat in it as he wanted, thank you very much--and then crash until his next shift.

All he really had to worry about was resetting the security system and he did that the minute he walked in. It was one thing Nick could get touchy about. Warrick thought it was perfectly understandable, all things considered, and had quickly trained himself to remember it. Other than that, their first week as roommates had gone off without a hitch.

As he shrugged out of his jacket, Warrick was a bit startled to see Nick in the corner of the sofa, staring blankly at some infomercial on the television--usually a graveyard shift CSI would be asleep at this hour unless, like him, they'd been on overtime. "Hey."

"Hey," Nick replied, blinking a bit drowsily. "Turned into a double on you, huh?"

Warrick knew he'd have to become reaccustomed to hearing that without the thread of accusation behind it. "Yeah."

"Landers case?" Nick asked, returning his attention to the mindless program.

"Yep. Brother-in-law."

"I knew it." Nick had helped Warrick out on some of the leg work even though it hadn't been his case.

"The DA says no bail."

"Good. The guy was an arrogant dickhead."

Grinning, Warrick walked into the kitchen and quickly threw together a sandwich. When he came back out, Nick was off the sofa, checking the alarm. "I set it, Nicky," Warrick assured him.

Nick started and hurriedly stepped away. "Yeah. Just checking." He plucked uncomfortably at the hem of his t-shirt before going back to the sofa.

Warrick noted he was wearing pajama bottoms with the t-shirt--something he often slept in. A closer look revealed that Nick actually looked a bit rumpled, as though he had been asleep. The waistband of the pajamas was a bit low and it would be so easy to just...Warrick abruptly slammed the door on that train of thought. He'd been handling the close proximity to Nick fairly well so far and didn't want to start moving into such dangerous territory. "Were you asleep?"

"What?" Nick frowned as he settled himself back in his corner.

As he studied the way Nick practically huddled at one end of the sofa, feet up off the floor, Warrick was furious at himself for not catching on sooner. "Do you have nightmares very often?"

Nick's hesitation before answering was just enough to let Warrick know he was right. "Who says I have nightmares at all?"

"You're up. You look like you haven't gotten enough sleep."

"CSIs never get enough sleep," Nick shot back. Curled up, his feet bare, he seemed oddly vulnerable, a striking contrast to the way he'd been at work lately.

Warrick pretended to concentrate on his sandwich as he considered the difference from the way Nick had taken to dressing lately and realized the layers of ill-fitting clothes could very well be Nick's version of armor. "You haven't any before--I mean, since I've been here."

"Then it's not a big deal, right?" Nick sounded defensive, which was also a bit unusual.

"Okay." Warrick decided to give it one more shot before backing off. "Was it about anything in particular?"

"I don't know," Nick snapped. "I hardly ever remember them."

"Them?"

"I said it wasn't a big deal," Nick scowled, getting off the sofa. "Besides you're back now, so I'm gonna be able to get some more sleep, okay?"

With that, Nick walked into his bedroom, leaving Warrick with much more than a sandwich to chew on.

"Nick has court this morning," Warrick said once the waitress had brought their coffee and taken their orders.

"I know," Greg returned. "That's why I asked you today."

So Greg wanted to talk about something concerning Nick. Warrick just hoped he wasn't going to ask about Nick's social life. Sometimes he wondered about the playful teasing--flirting, really--that Nick and Greg had always done. He told himself that Greg pretty much flirted with everyone and to stop being such an ass. "What's up?"

"How long have you been staying at Nick's?"

Warrick tensed immediately. Surely Greg hadn't caught onto his feelings. Then again, Greg was capable of frighteningly accurate insights at times. "Just over two weeks," he said as easily as he could. "Why?"

"Has he talked to you about the Mullins' case? Or Kelly Gordon?"

"Nick doesn't talk much about anything expect work right now," Warrick pointed out. "You know that."

"Yeah, I know that. Not like him, though, is it?"

"Cut the guy some slack. He's been through--"

"I know," Greg said shortly. "But he wasn't like this at first. It's only since Kelly Gordon OD'd that he's been so...different."

Warrick thought back over the past six months and nodded. "Okay. Still, it's a lot to deal with."

Greg dropped his gaze to the table top. "But he hasn't talked about it. To anyone, lately."

"You mean is he seeing a shrink? Not anymore. Not that I know of, anyway."

The waitress brought their food, and Warrick watched as Greg toyed briefly with his pancakes and then pushed the entire plate away.

"C'mon, Greg, what is it?"

The younger man drew a deep breath. "Okay, well, Archie's been feeling really guilty about it."

"Archie?" What the hell did Archie have to do with anything? How far out of the loop had he been lately?

"Did you know Walter Gordon left a tape in the coffin with Nick?"

Warrick had to swallow before answering. Just the man's name still made his stomach clench and throat tighten with fury. "Yeah, I knew about that."

"Did you know the tape was recovered a few months later?"

That took a moment to register. "What?"

"The tape was brought in and Grissom had Archie analyze it, but told him not to tell anyone."

This wasn't making sense. "Why?"

"I'm not really sure why, but there was another voice on the tape."

"Who?" Warrick asked, wondering insanely if he was going to go through all five W's.

"Sylvia Mullins'. Which means she was involved in Nick's...Nick only found out about it when he was investigating her murder, because it cross-referenced his case. That's when he found out about the tape. Archie says Nick came to him with a known tape of Kelly and Sylvia's voices for comparison and that's when Archie let it slip that he'd known." Greg shook his head and spun his coffee mug aimlessly. "Since then, Nick's been...well."

Warrick didn't know who he was angrier at--Grissom for not telling Nick or Nick for not telling anyone else. Then much of his anger at Nick subsided--if he was pissed at Grissom, he couldn't imagine what it had done to Nick.

"I'm just wondering if Nick thinks we all knew and didn't say anything," Greg continued in a low voice. "Maybe that's why he's been so...I don't know."

"No," Warrick shook his head. "He would have said something to us. Maybe he can't go off on Grissom, but we would have heard about it."

"Really?" Greg looked dubious.

"I'll find out what's going on with him," Warrick promised.

So here he was lying in wait for his best friend, who had been nice enough to give him a place to stay. Warrick had decided that it would be best to confront Nick right away, because court often left a CSI drained and occasionally frazzled and he knew the only way he'd get anything out of Nick was to catch him off guard. He'd made a pot of coffee and also bought a six of beer, just in case. Although he had no idea what Nick was going to do when questioned, Warrick had a feeling it wouldn't be pretty. He heard Nick's truck pull into the driveway and forced himself to remain sitting--no sense in making the confrontation literal as well.

Nick walked in, loosening his tie with one hand as he walked right past the easy chair where Warrick was sitting.

"How was court?" Warrick asked.

"Hey," Nick stopped, looking surprised. "Boring. Laverne Coogan had already confessed, but she's going with an insanity plea. They didn't really need my testimony, but the DA wants to make sure he's got all his bases covered." He shrugged out of his suit jacket and draped it over the back of a dining chair. "What are you still doing up?"

"Waiting for you."

"Yeah?" Nick finished with his tie and pulled it off. "What's up?"

"I want to talk to you."

"Okay," Nick sat on the sofa and undid the first few buttons on his shirt. "What about?" he asked, but no longer sounded quite so casual. He'd picked up on Warrick's tension.

Warrick was tempted to just back out. In so many ways, for so many reasons, he had no right to bring up the subject. He hadn't been there for Nick when it first happened and Nick had needed his support. What's more, there was nothing major that he could really call Nick on. None of the changes were either harmful or dangerous to anyone, and they certainly hadn't affected the Texan's job.

"Rick?" Nick sounded concerned.

"The Sylvia Mullins case."

Instantly, the handsome features turned to stone. "There's not that much to tell," Nick said, in much the same tone he would have used to testify in court. "Sylvia Mullins was murdered and all the evidence pointed to a single suspect. That suspect confessed to the crime and then died from a deliberate overdose. Detective Curtis closed the case two days later."

It was several long minutes before Warrick managed to break the silence, and even then all he could say was--"Nicky."

Nick brushed his heavy bangs off his forehead, looking anywhere but at Warrick.

"I heard about the tape," Warrick told him.

Impossibly, Nick's gaze grew even more distant.

Warrick tried to remain patient, but it wasn't easy. "Why didn't you say anything? Hell, why didn't you recuse yourself from the case the minute Kelly Gordon came into the picture?"

That brought a change. Nick's expression darkened with indignation. "Hey, you can ask Catherine. It didn't bias my investigation. I still did my job properly."

"Jesus, Nick. You don't only recuse yourself for the case's sake."

Nick shook his head instead of replying.

"Why didn't you--? I don't know. Say something? To anyone?"

"About what?"

"About what?" Warrick repeated incredulously. "About Mullins. About the tape. About Grissom hiding it from you. About anything." When Nick's frown only deepened, he went on, "And I'm not saying it should have been me. Just...anyone."

"I did. I talked to Grissom."

Warrick hadn't expected to hear that. "About...the tape?"

"I told him I'd found--heard the recording, had Archie run the comparison and identified Mullins."

"What did he say?"

"He said it was over."

Warrick could practically hear the walls going up again. "What did you say?"

"Nothing," Nick shrugged. "What's to say? All the players are dead, so technically, he's right."

"Technically? Nick--"

"Am I supposed to be angry at Grissom?" Nick asked. "I was at first, but...he must have had a reason for keeping it from me. Maybe he thought I couldn't handle it. He obviously thinks I should have dealt with it by now."

"That's not his call," Warrick protested. "Even if Grissom believes that--and I'm not sure he does, after everything you've been through--"

"No." Nick shoved himself off the sofa, then paced the length of the living room a few times before stopping with his back to Warrick. "I'm tired of that. It's been long enough. What I've been through shouldn't even be on the table anymore."

"There's no time limit for this, Nick," Warrick stood as well.

"It can't be an issue forever, either," Nick countered. His shoulders hunched forward as he curled in on himself slightly. "It's enough. I don't want to be this madman's victim forever. I'm sick of it."

This was not the direction he'd expected things to go, and Warrick knew he had to tread carefully. "It's--this isn't your fault."

"I know that," Nick said with a tired sigh, but he didn't turn around. "Not what happened to me, anyway. But now that it's over, how long I stay a victim is up to me. And I'm not going to stay his victim."

Moving closer, Warrick tried again, "Of course not, but--"

"Okay, then, I just have to work a little harder."

Near enough to reach out and touch his friend, Warrick wasn't sure if it was the right thing to do or not. "Nick, you can't force--"

"Yeah, I was ticked off at Grissom at first, but he's right. It's over. And I want it over." Nick braced his arms against a chair back for support. "I'm so damn tired of it affecting my life. I'm tired of jumping at shadows. I'm tired of shying away from flashes of light. I tired of always feeling like I've got to watch my back."

"Well, cross that last one off your list. I've got your back again, Nicky." Warrick gave in and rested his hand on the back of Nick's neck.

Much of the tension left Nick's body, and when he turned, his expression had also softened considerably. "I know you do, Rick." He leaned back slightly into the pressure of Warrick's hand.

It occurred to Warrick that all he had to do was dip his head slightly, and he would be able press his lips against Nick's. Their gazes were locked, then the dark eyes widened slightly, and at the same moment Warrick decided to take away his hand, Nick took a quick step back.

"I'm gonna..." Nick cleared his throat. "I'm gonna crash for a while."

"Yeah, same here," Warrick nodded, wondering if he looked as dumb as he felt.

"We should, uh..." Nick moistened his lips nervously, and as far as Warrick was concerned, that did nothing to help the situation. "Big Twelve semi-finals are on tonight. Can't have beer, but we should order some pizzas and watch the game before work."

"Yeah, yeah," Warrick agreed immediately, taking another step back--away from temptation. "Sounds good."

"Cool," Nick moved hesitantly toward the door of his bedroom.

"So it's a plan."

"Right."

Warrick didn't release the breath he'd been holding until Nick went into his bedroom and closed the door.

Warrick hated picking up his mail. He'd left his key to the apartment behind in order to make a point. The point had been made, but now he could only pick up his mail when Tina was home. They both did their best to be civil, but that didn't stop things from breaking down into sniping much of the time. Even if no insults or accusations were exchanged, just the tension was enough to grate on Warrick's nerves.

Invariably, he always returned to Nick's in a lousy mood and cursing under his breath, angry at Tina, angry at her family, angry at the situation but mostly angry at himself. Today was no exception and Warrick grumbled darkly as he tossed his mail onto the dining table where Nick was working at his laptop.

"Mail day," Nick commented without looking up from his screen.

Warrick dropped into a chair across from him. "This sucks, man."

"Why don't you get your address changed?" Nick asked reasonably.

"To what? I still don't have a place." Warrick reminded himself again that he really had to get a move on in that department.

"Just have it sent here."

Warrick looked at him sharply, but Nick was still engrossed in his computer. "I can't do that. I meant to be out of your way after a couple of weeks--that's how long it was supposed to take for the divorce to go through."

Nick looked up, his expression silently questioning.

"There was a mix-up, though, and now it'll be another couple of weeks."

"A bit more than a month," Nick gave him a crooked grin. "That's still barely any time at all compared to--well, nearly everywhere else."

"I know," Warrick sighed, flipping through his mail. It was mostly junk and bills. "It's just that I want this over with yesterday."

"I know," Nick's grin turned into a sympathetic smile. "Well, about the other. I just figured it would be easier for you to have it sent here."

"Probably not a good idea for me to get too comfortable," Warrick said, more for his benefit than Nick's.

"I don't see why not," Nick shrugged. "You should know you can stay here as long as you want."

"Yeah, well, it's been a month already. Any longer and I might as well take my stuff out of storage and make myself at home."

"Like what? Are there things you've got in storage that you need?" Nick asked with a small frown. "Man, you should have said something before. Just get whatever it is and we can find room around here for it."

"I start doing that and I'll be here indefinitely." Warrick knew he was moving into dangerous territory again and tried to laugh everything off.

Nick shrugged in return, as if to say that he didn't have a problem with that. Then, abruptly, his expression changed. "Oh."

Warrick didn't like the sound of that. "What?"

"You think people might start talking if you stay here too long?"

That was the last thing he wanted Nick to think. "Nah, I'm not worried about that. Shit, I would hope people had more important things to worry about than that. No, that's not the point."

"What's the point?"

"I don't like being in your way longer than necessary."

"Who ever said you were in my way? You're not." Nick grinned again, this one much more teasing, "Unless you think having a roommate will cramp your style once you're a free man again."

Warrick laughed. "I don't think so. I'm gonna be taking it easy for a while."

With a soft snort, Nick turned his attention back to his computer.

"It would be different if I was chipping in," Warrick added. "But you hardly even let me buy food."

Nick stopped typing again. "Are you saying if I split the bills, you'd stay?"

"I...yeah, I guess." Warrick studied his friend. This seemed to go beyond merely politeness and hospitality. Unless his friend was doing a hell of an acting job--and Warrick couldn't think of a reason why he would--then Nick actually wanted him to stay.

Determined not to give in to his own wishful thinking, Warrick cast about for another reason Nick might want him to stick around. Nick had seemed more relaxed since their little go around about the tape. If it meant anything, he had finally abandoned the bulky layers for better fitting clothing--Catherine had noticed and complimented him on it. His smiles were now more frequent and less forced. The more Warrick thought about, the more it seemed that having someone else around was reassuring for Nick, even though the Texan had always lived alone. Warrick supposed it wasn't that surprising, all things considered.

And really, who was he trying to kid, anyway? He knew deep down that the moment Nick suggested he stay indefinitely, his mind was automatically made up, even though in many ways it wasn't a great idea. Still, he'd been doing all right staying there for the past month--he hadn't spontaneously combusted or anything. It was even possible that being around Nick so much would lessen the attraction--it had definitely worked with Tina.

The silence was about to become uncomfortable, so Warrick quickly said, "I mean, if I was payin' my half of the bills, then I wouldn't feel so bad about moving some of my other things in."

"Okay." Nick flashed him one of those big smiles that lit his dark eyes and creased the corners. "Okay, we'll work all that stuff out."

"Then you've got yourself a roommate."

Driving back to the lab from his latest crime scene, Nick drew in a deep breath of cool night air and blew it out slowly. It was the first time in a long time that he found himself able to breathe easily, that he didn't feel somehow constricted. Even stranger, he hadn't realized the problem had been there until it was gone.

As he wove the Denali through traffic, he let his thoughts drift, concerning himself with his driving but very little else. That was something else he hadn't been able to do for some time--when he wasn't on the job, he barely knew what he was thinking or feeling and that scared him. Being at work, processing the scene, working the case, all of it was a relief. He was nice and safe with a specific set of things to focus on, which kept his mind from wandering into dark and dangerous places. Ever since Kelly's suicide, it had taken more and more effort to avoid those places, to the point that Nick tried not to think of anything except work.

His friends were all worried about him and looking out for him. He knew that and yet somehow, he hadn't felt reassured until Warrick had said it. He believed Warrick. It was simple as that. Nick knew he would always believe Warrick's voice.

We gotcha. Hey, Nicky!

That voice, cutting through the sound of his own harsh, desperate--and he'd been certain, final--breaths.

We gotcha. We're gonna get you out of there.

Between the lights suddenly flashing into the coffin and the tears in his swollen eyes, Nick hadn't been able to see a thing, but he had known that voice.

Hang on. Hang on.

So he had.

We're gonna kill those ants, okay?

There had been a blast of icy air, one that had miraculously eased some of his torment.

I'm not leaving here without him.

Then Warrick had been gone.

And more terrifying than not being able to see Warrick, he had suddenly been unable to hear Warrick.

When Grissom had gotten down on the coffin, reassuring and reasoning, somewhere behind his terror and hysteria, Nick reminded himself that Warrick had said they were going to get him out. He trusted that voice and was able to calm down enough to pay attention to what Grissom said.

He'd believed Warrick.

He'd listened to Grissom.

He'd gotten out alive.

Was it any wonder, then, than when Gil Grissom told him it was over, he tried his damnedest to make it so?

Or that when Warrick said--"I've got your back," he never doubted it from that point on?

Or that sharing his living space with Warrick eased many of his unspoken fears?

Of course, sharing a house with Warrick brought its own set of problems, but so far, none of them had been insurmountable. He'd been trying had not to seem too dependant on Warrick, because there were still times when his friend seemed uncomfortable with their situation. Now that he was finally beginning to feel comfortable in his own skin again--and in some ways for the first time--the last thing Nick wanted was to make anyone else uncomfortable.

Nick smiled when he pulled up in the parking lot and saw the rest of the lab's Denalis were also there. A couple of months ago, knowing his colleagues were present, likely gathered in the break or conference rooms, Nick would have gone to an empty evidence lab with a convenient excuse for avoiding everyone. Now he dropped his evidence off with the techs and strolled to the break room for a cup of coffee before getting back to work. Greg and Sara were seated with Wendy at the table, and there was a half a pot of coffee in the machine.

"Hey," he said by way of greeting, then nodded toward the pot. "Who made?"

"I did," Greg grinned while Sara made faces at them both for the unspoken jibe about her coffee. Then Greg turned to Wendy, "Now's your chance to ask him."

"Ask me what?" Nick asked as he poured himself a cup. Even if Greg no longer got paid enough to keep the graveyard shift in Blue Hawaiian, the guy still made the best coffee in the lab.

After a brief, nervous glance at Greg, Wendy said, "If...um...if you're seeing anyone."

"Oh." Nick joined them at the table, unsure how he felt about someone wanting to set him up. "No. Uh...why?"

"Do you know Dominic Ferris? He works QD on dayshift--part-time."

Nick shook his head, unable to put a face to the vaguely familiar name--likely he'd only read it on a report somewhere. "Is he new?"

"He's been here over a year and a half."

"Oh. Jeez. Uh..." he looked to Greg and Sara for help.

"I didn't know who he was either," Sara said while Greg merely shrugged.

"He's really, really shy," Wendy said. "We're both from Vallejo--I went to school with his sister--I think that's the only reason he isn't scared to talk to me. Anyway, he asked me if you were seeing anyone," she grinned. "And then just about died when I said I'd ask you, but I thought I'd ask, anyway."

"Aw," Sara gave Nick an impish smile. "Someone has a crush on you."

"He should try and snag a night shift or two," Greg advised, shooting a wink in Nick's direction.

Nick did his best to ignore both of them and prayed he wasn't turning red.

"I told him the same thing," Wendy smirked. "He doesn't want to pester Ronnie."

"Um..." Nick hesitated. "I'm not sure what to..."

"Oh, don't worry about it," Wendy assured him. "I think if he actually had to talk to you right now, the poor guy would hide."

"Really?" Greg sounded dubious. "If that Clark Kent 'do Nick had didn't scare him off, I don't see why anything else would."

Nick rolled his eyes. Greg was referring to the way Nick hadn't bothered cutting his hair for the past several months--something that had been remedied just the week before. Hair had been the last of his concerns, and he could have cared less what it looked like. When he finally had gotten around to cutting it again, several people at work had commented or complimented him on going back to his old style. He didn't fuss much with his looks at the best of times--other than making sure he was presentable. He knew he was considered good-looking, it was something he had heard people talk about ever since he could remember. Not in his immediate family--his parents didn't believe in fostering that sort of vanity--but aunts and uncles and grandparents had made much of him, and he'd always enjoyed it.

Until he was nine.

"Are you giving someone flak about their hair?" Wendy asked Greg in disbelief, and Nick forcibly brought his mind back to the present. "Glass houses."

Sara chuckled.

"Sorry if I embarrassed you," Wendy apologized to Nick. "I'm not trying to set you up or anything. But like Sara said, he does have a crush on you, so I thought I ask."

"No harm done," Nick said easily, relieved that he'd gotten through it without blushing.

"Next time you work a double you should stop by QD," Greg suggested. "Get a look at your secret admirer."

"Hey," Warrick's voice in the doorway made them all turn. "They finally brought in Holbrook's minivan," he said, scowling at Greg. "You gonna process it or you gonna wait another week to catch this guy?"

Then he was gone, leaving everyone in the break room blinking in surprise.

Greg downed the rest of his coffee in a single gulp and hurried to the garage. He obviously had no desire to anger Warrick further.

"What's with him?" Sara asked.

Nick could only shake his head, "He was fine the last time I saw him. Maybe the surveillance tape he had was a bust."

"Well, I guess if you think about it," Sara pointed out. "He hasn't been that moody--not for someone going through a divorce."

Warrick couldn't remember the last time he'd managed to be both so right and so wrong on so many points as he'd been when deciding to move in with Nick. He had never pulled it off to this degree, he was certain. That's why he'd actually taken to keeping a mental checklist.

Having someone else around was reassuring for Nick.

Apparently so. As Nick shed the bulky clothing and unflattering hair, he'd also let go of the iron control he'd been maintaining--one that had brought a coldness that hadn't suited the Texan at all. There was now more of a difference between Nick on and off the job. When he wasn't at work--despite the changes forced on him by Gordon and those he'd decided to bring about himself--Nick was still the same person at his core. Still the warm, sweet-natured, caring man Warrick had met eight years before. On the job, however, that iron control Nick had used as a shield now eased into a cool confidence--one that suggested that although here was a nice guy, it wouldn't be wise to push him too far. It didn't quite jive with the way Warrick had always seen his friend, but somehow managed to make Nick even more appealing.

Being around Nick so much would lessen the attraction.

Right.

If anything, being around Nick, watching him struggle and then succeed in regaining his footing, only increased the attraction.

And it seemed he wasn't the only one who thought so.

The people they worked with were responding to the changes in Nick as well, and as far as Warrick could see, not all of it was based on mere friendliness. Graveyard CSIs had always flirted and teased among themselves, so that didn't bother Warrick, and neither did the way the techs acted around Nick. Except Wendy, maybe. He liked the DNA tech well enough, but thought she was overstepping her bounds a little, trying to set Nick up with someone when she'd only known him a few months.

Warrick also got annoyed with the way many of the detectives treated Nick. Weren't they supposed to be homophobic, anyway? What the hell were they doing laughing and teasing with a CSI that had been outed and never bothered to deny it?

As for witnesses, and some suspects, Nick never responded when they flirted, but it seemed to be happening more and more often.

The truth was, though, that Warrick couldn't be sure if it was occurring more or if he was just noticing it more since he'd moved in with Nick. He wasn't even sure which option he would prefer.

In many ways moving in wasn't a great idea.

Because before he'd moved in, he had been blissfully unaware of just how many people made plays for his friend in the course of an ordinary day--as blissfully unaware as Nick seemed to be of it.

He was certain that the cashiers--both male and female--at the corner store and video rental Nick frequented just lived for the days Nick came in.

As for the mail carrier--Warrick was pretty sure she staggered her route so she had the best chance of running into Nick when delivering the mail.

He was equally convinced that if Nick wanted to, he could get free drying cleaning, if the fawning of the fifty-something guy behind the counter was anything to go by.

He had never been to Nick's gym and had no intention of ever going--he didn't think he could take it.

One thing he really had to do, though, was find a way for Nick to change pizza places, because if that pretty-boy delivery guy got any more blatant, Warrick was going to do something drastic.

Not surprisingly, the only saving grace for Warrick in all this was Nick himself. Nick rarely, if ever, flirted back--according to him, these people were just "being friendly." On the few occasions that Nick did realize someone was flirting with him, he usually became flustered. As Warrick saw it, his friend was in limbo. Nick had never been that great at flirting with women--now everyone knew why--and was even more uncomfortable with it lately, but he still hadn't gotten used to the idea of flirting with men he didn't know very well.

Warrick was positive that was the only thing keeping him sane.

He hadn't spontaneously combusted or anything.

Yet.

There was still the chance of it happening, though.

Oh, he had the lust under control--for the most part--but he hadn't counted on the jealously.

Almost seven months to the day they took him to the Peppermill to celebrate his marriage, Warrick's colleagues returned to celebrate the end of that marriage. After his wedding, it had only been the four men from the graveyard shift along with Jim Brass. This time Catherine and Sara decided to join them, as did Sofia and most of the lab techs. Warrick knew it had to mean something when there were twice as many people there for the death as there had been for the beginning.

Grissom left after one drink, Brass after two, but everyone else seemed prepared to hang out until at least noon--the night shift's midnight. There were nearly a dozen of them, enough to fill one of the largest circular booths in the lounge and Warrick suspected that most of them would be taking cabs home. Greg was definitely going to be taking one, Warrick decided with a grin, and probably not alone. The youngest CSI was happily ensconced between Wendy Sims and Archie Johnson, and it was difficult to say which of them he was flirting with more.

Seated between Catherine and Bobby Dawson, Nick wasn't flirting, but he was bright-eyed and animated as he spoke to the ballistics expert--more so than he had been for some time. Sara, sitting directly across from Warrick, was watching Nick with a fond smile. Then, as if feeling Warrick's eyes on her, she met his gaze and flashed him that gap-toothed grin. Warrick returned the grin easily, feeling more relaxed than he'd been in months. His good mood lasted much of the morning, right up until Sofia returned from a trip to the bar with two drinks instead of one.

The detective stopped behind Nick and handed him one of the drinks, bending slightly to speak to him as she did so. Catherine leaned closer to hear what was happening, although it wasn't truly necessary--everyone in the booth was able to follow what was going on.

After a brief, surprised look at Sofia, Nick accepted the drink from her and looked behind him to the spot she indicated. He smiled and nodded at someone--Warrick made a determined effort not to look at who it might be--but didn't seem inclined to go speak to whoever it was.

From his place on Catherine's other side, Warrick wasn't able to ignore her encouraging words to Nick, despite his best efforts.

"You think so?" Nick asked.

"You don't have to, but why wouldn't you?" Catherine snuck another look toward the man in question. "Not that bad at all."

"I met up with him a couple of times at King Jimmy's," Nick explained. "He seemed like a pretty nice guy."

Warrick ordered a double from the next passing waitress.

"You've already met him?" Catherine exclaimed. "You liked him?"

"Well...yeah."

"Hell, Nicky, why wouldn't you go talk to him?"

"It's not like I came here looking to hook up with anyone," Nick explained. "I came here with you guys. That'd be liked...ditching you, wouldn't it?"

Warrick gritted his teeth as Sofia and Bobby quickly joined in the conversation, both of them assuring Nick that no one would mind. He made sure he was looking away in case Nick happened to glance in his direction--damned if he was going to influence Nick either way.

After a little more encouragement from Catherine and Sara--when the hell had Sara joined in, anyway?--Nick left the booth. Then Warrick had to listen to the women discuss Nick's love life--or current lack thereof.

By the time Nick returned, amidst much teasing, Warrick was halfway through his second double. That was fortunate, because it was the only way he managed to stay put while Catherine, Sara and Sofia suddenly turned into teenagers again and bombarded Nick with questions. Although he tried not to, he still heard snippets of Nick's answers.

"...name is Mark...met a couple of times at King Jimmy's...he's here with co-workers, too...yes, we hit it off...no, I'm not telling you that...send him a drink? Maybe..."

Warrick was so intent on not listening, that he didn't realize the conversation had ended until Nick flopped down next to him.

"Having a good time?"

Drawing on years of experience, Warrick bluffed with a smile. "Not as good as some people."

Nick returned the smile, somewhat sheepishly. "Sorry about that. I just--"

"Nah, go ahead," Warrick said magnanimously. "You buy him a drink?"

"I don't know..."

Warrick couldn't help feeling slightly cheered by Nick's reluctance. He was just beginning to relax when Catherine leaned over to Nick again. "I think someone is waiting for you over by the bar, Nicky."

Nick glanced over. It was difficult to tell under the club's lights, but Warrick was sure he was blushing. "You don't know that."

"Yeah," Sofia agreed dryly. "He's not interested. That's why he hasn't taken his eyes off you."

Do all female CSIs--and former CSIs--turn into gay matchmakers after a few drinks? Warrick wondered.

"Considering all the times you've told me to get out and meet people," Sara added. "You should set a good example."

Apparently they do.

After a few more protests, Nick went to join Mark at the main bar, not looking too unhappy about the prospect.

When Warrick finished his drink, he decided he didn't feel like waiting for the waitress and was just buzzed enough to think that getting his next drink at the bar was a pretty good idea. The bartender set another double in front of him, but before Warrick could reach for his wallet, a bill was pushed across the counter.

"We took you out," Nick reminded him with a smile. "You shouldn't be paying."

"You're just buyin' drinks for everybody today, aren't you?" Warrick smirked, looking over Nick's shoulder.

Nick looked behind him. "Oh. Warrick, this is Mark. Mark--Warrick. We brought Warrick out to celebrate."

"Birthday?" Mark asked politely as they shook hands.

"Divorce," Warrick tightened his grip a bit more than was necessary. The guy was too sleek, in Warrick's opinion, with his carefully styled, just-stepped-out-of-Abercrombie-&-Fitch look. Mark's smile became forced as Warrick tightened his hand further, and Warrick put a little more teeth than necessary into his own smile. Once his point was made though, he had no desire to stick around playing fifth wheel. "Well, if you'll excuse me. I think I see my road to recovery over there," he said, nodding in that direction.

Both men followed his gaze toward the outrageously curved brunette at the end of the bar. One corner of Nick's mouth tucked down slightly before he smiled again. "Have fun."

"Later." He moved to the end of the bar and easily fell into a conversation with Shanna or Lana--something like that. He didn't quite catch her name because he was busy watching Mark lean in to say something in Nick's ear. Nick pulled away, looking surprised, then flicked a split-second glance in Warrick direction before shaking his head with a smile.

Warrick spent the rest of the morning collecting phone numbers as if his life depended on it.

Most of his colleagues overlooked this as natural post-divorce behavior, although Catherine had a few things to say about it, while Archie and Greg commented that they might as well head home since he wasn't giving anyone else a chance. The strange thing was, he wasn't even trying as hard as usual, and still got half a dozen invitations to return to various apartments for a very special breakfast. So it was a pleasant surprise to find himself sharing a cab with Nick for their return home.

He really should have been satisfied with that, but he couldn't seem to leave well enough alone. "So how did things go between you and that guy?"

"Mark?" Nick reset his security system once they were both in the door. Warrick suspected he would have to be very far along before he forgot it. "Okay, I guess."

Warrick took his time hanging up his jacket, thereby crowding Nick into staying by near the door. "I figured you'd be leaving with him instead of taking a cab home."

"I could say the same about you."

"He wasn't my type."

"Very funny," Nick snorted. He shifted slightly, then stilled when it became obvious Warrick wasn't going to move. "You know what I mean."

"Do you know what I mean?" As soon as the words left his mouth, alarm bells went off in Warrick's mind, alerting him that he was headed down a dangerous path. He still had enough of a buzz to conveniently muffle them, however.

"Um..." Nick was still smiling, but looked uncertain. "I'm not sure I do."

It suddenly occurred to Warrick that he could probably use the alcohol as an excuse for his actions, and the moment it did, he bent his head to cover Nick's lips with his own. He was prepared for Nick to pull away, either laughing or irritated or shocked. He was not prepared for Nick's lips to soften under his, or for Nick to press closer with a soft sound of longing.

Startled, Warrick broke it off, wanting to look into those dark eyes that always spoke volumes, but as soon as he drew back, Nick stumbled away.

"Oh, jeez..." Nick breathed, keeping his eyes down. "I'm sorry, Rick."

Warrick couldn't process that. "What?"

"You've a lot to drink...and considering your divorce just went through today..." Nick explained, his gaze firmly fixed on the floor. "I shouldn't...I know you never would have...I just--God, I'm sorry." Before Warrick could say anything, Nick had pushed past him and practically ran for his bedroom.

Warrick stared stupidly after him. Nick had kissed him back. Nick had wanted to kiss him. Nick thought Warrick's kiss was brought on by booze and divorce. Nick thought he was taking advantage of Warrick. Warrick was torn between sitting down to laugh his head off and going after Nick to make his point.

On the other hand, Nick had every right to think what he did. Warrick had never admitted his bisexuality to his friend. Hell, he'd gotten married just to avoid doing so, because he'd been scared to death of finding out that Nick never wanted anything more than friendship from him. It had taken years and a lot of liquor for him to even gather the nerve for a chaste kiss.

Despite his fuzziness, Warrick forced himself to think straight. If he followed Nick into his bedroom and tried anything, Nick would probably turn him away on the basis that it was the right thing to do. Either that, or something would happen and Nick would guilt himself to death afterward.

He was in no shape to think clearly about this, so although it was the most difficult thing he'd ever done, Warrick walked into his bedroom and crawled into bed. Alone.

It was the only time in his life that he'd ever ignored such a strong temptation, but the possibility of something with Nick was too important to risk with his usual impulsive behavior.

Nick didn't wish a hangover on Warrick, but he was glad his friend had knocked back a little too much at the Peppermill. It meant he was sleeping like the dead and gave Nick the chance to get the hell out of the house without having to speak to him.

Of course, Nick reflected, it was the liquor that had caused the whole mess. But then, Warrick's single drunken kiss wouldn't have been a big deal if he hadn't been unbelievably stupid and tried to turn it into something more. He was determined not to think about it. At least, not until he absolutely had to, which would probably be once they'd both finished their shifts and Warrick gave some handy excuse for moving out immediately. If he thought about it too much, Nick knew he might very well light out for Texas like an utter coward.

Four hours was far too early to show up for work when he wasn't approved any overtime, so Nick killed an hour or two with a solitary dinner and some wandering among his favorite stores. He ended up buying a couple of shirts--one of which he paid much more than usual for--a pair of jeans and some dress slacks. At an electronics store he browsed over the laptops. He had considered getting a new one with the money he was now saving on rent, but that option had just vanished and it was the least of his regrets, anyway.

Finally, he gave up and headed to the lab two hours early, knowing he had plenty of paperwork to keep him busy. Grabbing a stack of his case files, Nick found a quiet corner and began plowing through all the forms and reports that seemed to constantly pile up. He managed to keep at it for almost an hour before he started going cross-eyed. As he gathered everything up again, Nick decided to go in search of his supervisor.

Grissom had likely arrived some time ago and might possibly have an assignment that Nick could start on. If Warrick didn't show up early as well--and Nick prayed he didn't--then they might not run into each other all shift.

He barely noted Detective Vartann in conversation with Ecklie as he walked down the hall, until he heard Vartann mention his name. Curious, he slowed a bit, and was able to catch most of Ecklie's reply--"It should only be cross-referenced under Stokes. Check the computer under Mullins."

"I did. There's no vault number," Vartann returned. "I checked under Gordon, too."

Nick stopped just behind Vartann, trying to ignore the knots those particular names brought to his stomach.

Ecklie noticed him at once and frowned uncomfortably. "Nick."

"Hi."

Vartann turned around, "Stokes." He glanced at Ecklie, "You...you worked Sylvia Mullins' murder, right?"

"Yeah," Nick braced himself involuntarily. "Yeah, Sofia closed it a while ago."

"What was the evidence in that case logged under?" Ecklie asked.

"Under Mul--" Nick suddenly remembered the phone call he received nearly two weeks before. "There was a dispute over some of her personal effects," he explained. "One of her clients was petitioning the court for everything. The judge ruled against him just a couple of days ago. It's in one of the holding rooms and hasn't been logged into the vault yet."

"Do you know where?"

"Sure. In the one right next to the drying room--I put it there myself."

"Can you show me?" Vartann persisted.

"Detective..." Ecklie began, looking from him to Nick and back. "I'll let Westbrook know you've found the evidence."

"Thanks," Vartann nodded, then gestured for Nick to lead the way.

Nick did, after casting Ecklie a tight smile to let him know he got the hint as well.

They were silent as they made their way to the holding room, and Nick couldn't help reflecting once again, on Vartann's easy acceptance of his coming out. Of all the detectives Nick worked with most often, Vartann was undoubtedly the most hard-nosed and arrogant but the man had never once treated him any differently.

Proving this point again as Nick unlocked the evidence locker assigned for his cases, Vartann asked, "Aren't you going to ask what this is about? I'd want to know if I were you."

Finding the necessary box almost immediately, Nick set it on the table. "She's been dead for months," he pointed out, trying not to sound too curious.

"Yeah, and this is probably going to go nowhere," Vartann admitted. "But our John Doe had no ID. The only name we found on him was her card." He picked up the bags containing the appointment and address books. "Who knows how long he had it."

"Those are probably your best bet," Nick started filling out the form so Vartann could take the bags.

"Yeah, I'm not gonna hold my breath, though," Vartann took the clipboard and signed off. "Thanks."

"No pro--" Nick stopped when both their pagers went off at the same moment.

Vartann had his out first. "A 402 on Jefferson and E. You, too?"

"Yep."

"There you are," Grissom stopped in the doorway. "There's a fire on Jefferson. You're driving."

"Right behind you," Nick assured him, handing the evidence to Vartann.

The fire, at a halfway house on Jefferson Avenue, officially belonged to the swing shift, but for the first 60 hours, nearly every CSI was working it. Most of the building burned to the ground, but what remained made it plain that the doors had been barred from the outside. That, combined with protective caging on the windows, meant that all the residents had been trapped inside until the LVFD had arrived.

Death may have waited for no one, but down in the City Morgue, it had to take a number for a while. Twenty-seven bodies, ranging from barely singed to hideously charred, were pulled from the smoldering remains. After three were found to have been dead before the fire--COD was actually the bullet holes in their skulls--all the bodies had to undergo thorough autopsies. Unless they were given high priority, most other cases had to wait--the press had jumped on the halfway house arson and the Sheriff had given his orders.

Things had been so hectic that Warrick only got home for a shower and a few hours sleep twice in three days. That was the norm for all three shifts during the investigation, making it impossible for Warrick to find the time to clear the air with Nick. Anticipation never failed to curl through him at the thought of what could happen after the air had been cleared. Although he told himself it wouldn't be wise to get his hopes up--after all, Nick had been drinking, too--Warrick couldn't help thinking about what it would be like if his hopes came true.

Of course, if it was up to Nick, Warrick was certain, there wouldn't be any sort of conversation about the kiss. Thus far, Nick had managed to arrange things so that they were never home at the same time and rarely worked the case together. Warrick hadn't even been able to get a few minutes alone with Nick to let his friend know he wasn't the least bit upset about the kiss. Now that things at the Crime Lab had finally returned their usual pace, Warrick intended for everything to be resolved after this shift. Barring another disaster Warrick planned to be home--at Nick's, but it had been very easy to start thinking of it as "home"--within the hour.

He had a sneaking suspicion that Nick might find somewhere else to be after work, but the guy had to come home sometime and Warrick was determined to wait him out. Warrick left the minute his shift ended, not bothering to look for Nick first--he definitely didn't want this sorted out at the lab. At home he got something to eat and tried to ignore the exhaustion pressing down on him. He didn't want to go to bed and risk missing Nick, so instead he stretched out on the sofa and was asleep in minutes.

He awoke to the sound of the door closing and opened his eyes to see Nick heading for his bedroom. "Hey."

Nick stumbled to an immediate halt and turned around. "Oh," was all he said.

Warrick got off the sofa, noting that Nick looked much more tired that even the past few days accounted for. He spared a quick glance at his watch. It was well past one--Nick had managed to avoid returning for quite some time.

"I wanted to tell you--" Nick's gaze immediately dipped to the floor. "I mean, to apologize--that is, I thought you might be packing..."

"Nicky," Warrick frowned. He'd had no idea Nick felt this bad about it.

"I can promise you it will never happen again," Nick said, raising earnest brown eyes to Warrick's. "Really."

Now that would be a crying shame. Warrick shook off any residual sleepiness. He knew he had to set this straight right away. "Nick, just let me ask you one thing."

"Sure," Nick nodded, although he seemed to be bracing himself. "Yeah, of course."

"Am I drunk right now?"

"Wh-what?"

"Am I drunk right now?"

"You were sleeping, weren't you?" Nick frowned in confusion.

"Nick," Warrick spoke firmly. "It's a yes or no question. Do you believe I'm drunk right now?"

"No."

"Good," Warrick said, and kissed him.

Nick froze, not reacting to the kiss at all. Warrick persisted, but was beginning to get worried until Nick let out a small, choked sound of want. Immediately, Warrick took advantage of the parted lips, sliding his tongue inside for a better taste. Nick moaned softly and Warrick ran one hand through the short, silky hair to cradle his head.

Finally, Nick broke away with a gasp. "What..? Warrick, what--?"

"Here's the deal," Warrick bowed his head to whisper into a slightly reddened ear. "I won't say how long I've wanted you and you won't say how long you've wanted me and this way neither of us has to feel like an idiot."

Nick drew back to stare at him.

Warrick couldn't help being nervous, because he knew how presumptuous his words were, but felt he was in too far to back down. "Okay?"

"That's probably a good idea," Nick agreed, a smile hovering around his lips.

This time when Warrick leaned in, Nick met him halfway, one arm coming up to encircle his neck, while the other wrapped around his waist. This kiss lasted much longer, until Nick moved his lips to Warrick's cheek, whispering his name against the stubbled skin over and over.

"What, Nicky?" Warrick murmured, stroking Nick's hair with one hand and his back with the other.

"I can't believe this," Nick breathed. "I thought you would leave because of what happened. God, it was killing me."

"Not on your life," Warrick assured him with another hungry kiss.

When they stopped for air, Nick persisted, "But are you even--? Have you ever--?"

Warrick smiled, he supposed there was no way to escape a few questions. "I guess I'm bisexual, although I don't see the need to call it anything." He teased Nick with a barely-there brush of lips. "I've just never had anything long-term with a guy before."

"Long-term?"

"Nicky, you want to talk, or you want to make out?"

Instead of answering, Nick drew Warrick's head down.

He had no idea where things might be leading, so Warrick savored every sensation from the moist heat of Nick's mouth to the shiver he prompted when he slipped a hand under Nick's shirt.

Then Nick broke off again and, panting, pressed his face against Warrick's neck. "Rick, I don't--"

He didn't finish the statement, and Warrick frowned at what he felt against his skin. "Did you just yawn?"

"Sorry."

"S'okay," Warrick kissed his ear. "How many times did you get back here?"

"Twice. But I only slept one time," Nick admitted. "I couldn't stop thinking about--wondering if you were going to move out."

"Aw, hell, Nicky," Warrick cupped Nick face with one hand and pulled back slightly to look into the dark eyes. "You must be dead on your feet."

One corner of Nick's mouth twitched, even though his exhaustion was evident. "I'm kinda wondering if I'm even awake right now."

"You think you're dreaming?" Warrick smiled.

"Wouldn't be the first time," Nick said, then promptly turned red.

Warrick felt his smile widen into a grin. "You need to get some sleep, Nicky. And I could actually use a little more."

"Together?" Nick sounded hesitant.

"That's your call."

"I...um...I'd like to..." Nick looked dismayed to find that it was up to him. "If it's only--that is, I don't know if we should..."

"It's okay," Warrick assured him, finding Nick more apprehensive than he'd expected. "We can get in a little more time before work."

"Yeah," Nick replied, disappointed. "I actually thought we could...I mean, I don't--jeez!" He blew out a breath of air, obviously exasperated with himself. "I'd like it if you were next to me, but I'm not sure about--"

"Anything else," Warrick finished with a smile. He'd never expected things to move quickly with Nick, anyway.

"I'm sorry," Nick muttered.

"Don't be," Warrick assured him with another kiss. "Just waking up next to you sounds pretty damn good to me."

If Warrick hadn't been next to him when he awakened, Nick wouldn't have believed the previous afternoon had happened at all. They had slept deeply--rather surprising in itself--and awoke with only enough time for a few kisses in between getting ready for work.

Nick still wasn't entirely certain Warrick had been joking when he suggested showering together to save time, but he laughed it off anyway. He seriously doubted it would save them any time at all and he was still a bit dazed by the whole situation. Which was stupid, because this was something he'd wanted for so long that it seemed he couldn't remember not wanting it. The part he was having trouble with was believing that Warrick wanted it as well.

Doubts and apprehensions needed to be put firmly behind him, Nick told himself. Nerves would simply have to be ignored. He was determined that any lingering issues he had about anything would not be a factor in this. Warrick had said long-term and Nick was not going to be the one to jeopardize that.

At the moment, though, Nick knew his main problem was keeping his mind on the job and not letting it wander into things that might happen when they got home. Nervous though he was, he was also filled with keen anticipation whenever he thought about it. It was fortunate that few of his current cases paired him with Warrick because he wasn't sure how well he'd be able to concentrate while working side-by-side with the man.

Nick was also worried that he would inadvertently give something away. While he'd had years of practice hiding his feelings for Warrick--and had apparently done a very good job--he doubted he'd be as successful now that he knew those feelings were reciprocated. The last thing he wanted to do was embarrass Warrick, especially when he had no idea how open Warrick wanted to be about whatever was between them. Since everyone already knew they were roommates and good friends, Warrick might just want to leave it at that.

Don't get carried away, he told himself firmly. It would probably be best not to have too many expectations when Warrick could merely be on the rebound. After all, when he had mentioned long-term, it had been to say that he'd never been long-term with a guy before. Maybe that was his way of warning that this wasn't very serious.

No, Nick finally decided. Warrick said they wouldn't rush, and if it was just a fling he was looking for, that was--a double beep alerted him that the last set of prints he'd run through AFIS had returned without a hit. Focusing his attention on the case again, he went looking for Sara to give her the bad news and find out if the bank records had turned up anything interesting.

"Stokes!"

Nick turned and slowed his pace when he saw Vartann hurrying to catch up to him. "Hi, Detective."

Vartann held up two evidence bags. "Thought I'd get these back to you."

"Thanks. I need you to sign again, though."

"I know," Vartann nodded, following when Nick made a right into the holding room.

"Did they help at all?" he asked, tossing the bags on the table and looking through the papers on the clipboard.

"Not really," Vartann shrugged. "I'm still trying to reach some of the names, but I don't think there's anything there." He took the clipboard Nick handed him and signed off. "A business card is a long shot at best, but it's all we've got."

"Do you want me to hold off sending it to the vault for another week?" Nick asked. "Just in case?"

"Yeah," Vartann set the clipboard on the table. "Maybe until I manage to reach everyone."

"No problem," Nick assured him, resealing the bags.

"Thanks," Vartann left.

Nick initialed and dated the new seals, then dropped the bags back in their bin with a slight frown of distaste. He locked up again, then continued his search for Sara.

On to Part 2